


culinary talents (or lack thereof)

by bail



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-17
Updated: 2011-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-23 19:48:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bail/pseuds/bail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave didn't really wanted to be a cook; it was just something that sort of happened along the way. AU fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	culinary talents (or lack thereof)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carolion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolion/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** David Cook, David Archuleta and et al. belong to themselves. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
>  **A/N:** The story can also be read at my [fic journal](http://bail.livejournal.com/8071.html) over at livejournal. Thanks to [aohatsu](http://aohatsu.livejournal.com/) for beta'ing for me! This short fic is dedicated to [carolion](http://carolion.livejournal.com/) who requested this prompt over at the writing meme on my journal.

Dave didn't really wanted to be a cook; it was just something that sort of happened along the way.

He had gotten a job as a bartender, which he had kind of really loved, as he considered himself a people's person. Plus, he was actually okay at making fancy drinks and knowing the difference between all the beer sorts that they served -- but Johns had needed a cook, part-time, when the previous cook, Brooke, announced that she was pregnant and couldn't handle standing up as many hours as the bar was open.

A few weeks later, he was the full-time cook, and the bartender job was only a couple of times a month if Johns needed him to take a shift. So he enjoyed it -- god knows that Andrew definitely enjoyed it, coming to the bar, drinking and eating and putting it on Dave's tab (though he had told Carly to stop letting his brother do that or else he wouldn't get any money out of all his hard work).

"We have a catering slash event gig Saturday," said Johns, pushing the door open just enough to peek through.

Dave stopped chopping the carrots, knife held in mid-air. "What the fuck, Johns?"

Johns smirked and simply lifted an eyebrow, clearly enjoying Dave's confusion.

"It's a _bar_ , not a fucking restaurant or café," Dave said, and started chopping again, perhaps a bit more aggressively than necessary.

"It's money," was all Johns said in return before he left, the door swinging open and closed for a couple of silent moments. Dave forced himself not to stare at the door, no matter how much he wanted to. He also managed to keep any rude gestures in, and he hardly even swore. All in all, he thought he handled the news rather well.

"I don't know jack about catering food," he said three hour later as he clocked out. Carly pushed a big glass of beer from the draft across the counter. He grabbed it, a slightly calloused hand pressing against the cool, smooth glass.

"What's the event, even?" asked Carly, hopping up on the counter, her legs dangling over the side. Dave looked curiously at Johns, who in return was focused on Carly's shirt.

"Oi," he said, slapping the back of Johns' head. "Focus, please. You can stare at her boobs all you want after you answer the question."

"You are fired," said Johns, though Dave knew that he didn't mean it. In fact, Johns probably fired him twice a month and he was fairly sure that Carly was fired at least once a week.

"Then you can make the food yourself," he retorted, smiling widely at Johns' look of disgust.

"Fine. I take it back."

Dave took a sip of his beer, tongue darting out to lick away the foam on his lips.

"It's Brooke's baby shower," Johns said, wriggling his eyebrows in amusement.

"Seriously?" Dave asked, not completely sure if he believed Johns or not.

"You don't believe me?" asked Johns, a hand placed over his heart to feign hurt. Dave just rolled his eyes.

“I believe you,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “I just don’t understand why Brooke would have hired _us_ to make the food for her baby shower. I mean, true, I can make a mean sandwich, but that’s about where my culinary skills end.”

And it was true. Dave was good at making sandwiches and easy dishes, but he couldn’t exactly imagine himself making something that a bunch of ladies at a baby shower would enjoy.

Carly reached out and ran a comforting hand down his arm, obviously sensing his line of thought.

“You’ll do great,” she said, and Dave hoped she was right.

 

*

 

Three days later, a short, brown-haired boy stood in the doorway, looking nervously at Dave, who in return just stared, flabbergasted and perhaps just a tad in love. The boy was cute, with gorgeous big hazel-coloured eyes. He was shorter than Dave, slimmer and smaller. There was something adorable about him, and Dave’s fingers itched with the want to reach out and touch and run his fingers over the slightly tanned skin.

“Um,” said the boy, cheeks colouring slightly. Dave closed his mouth, suddenly aware that he had been standing with his mouth hanging unattractively open for too long.

“Yeah, err, yes?” he asked as he stepped away from the stove, barely remembering to turn down the heat in his haste to talk to the boy.

“I’m, err, I’m looking for Cook the, um, cook?” he said, smiling embarrassedly, like he didn’t know if Johns had told him the correct name. Dave watched as the eyes went to his nametag, which said Cookie. That had totally been Carly’s doing. She was the one who had made the nametag for him, and Johns had been too much of an ass to make her redo it no matter how many times Dave had asked her to do so.

“That’s me,” he said, wiping his hand in a sort of clean towel he had twisted around his belt, before reaching out, going for a handshake. The boy just glanced at the hand, looking like he had no idea what to do.

“Um,” Dave said, and pulled the hand back a bit.

“Oh, um,” said the boy finally, and reached shyly out to shake Dave’s hand. His skin was soft, and his hand was small enough that Dave’s hand covered most of it in the handshake.

“Hi,” the boy said, blushing.

“Hi, err, I’m David Cook. Most people call me Dave though.”

“David,” the boy said. Cook’s eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. Then the boy continued, “I mean, I’m David too. David Archuleta.”

“Oh hey, name twin. Awesome, man,” Dave said, and could have slapped himself silly the moment the words left his mouth. He sounded so… well, enamoured and completely like a tool. David just smiled in return.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat. He glanced down at their joint hands, making a grimace when he realized that he was still clutching tightly onto David’s smaller hand. He released the hand, mumbling an apology the same time that David apparently felt the need to apologize too.

“My fault, man,” he said, taking a step back. “So, what can I help you with?”

“Um, I’m the waiter, for the baby shower?” he said, though it came out more as a question, as if he wasn’t sure that he was even in the right place. Dave could understand his hesitation. His reaction had been the same when he found out a couple of days ago that the bar was catering the baby shower.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“My family is friends with Brooke’s family, and she asked me to be the waiter for her.”

“Oh, great. Awesome,” said Dave, smiling widely.

“So, um, Johns thought I should come out here and introduce myself?” David sounded so confused, and Dave could understand why. They could have just met at the event, but Johns knows his type and had probably thought he was doing Dave a favour by sending out David to him. He was going to kill Johns after work. Or at least hit him, really hard. Or maybe just drink all the free beer that he could. He was not sure what he wanted to do.

“Yeah, that’s Johns for you,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. His hand trailed down the front of his throat when he noticed that David was sort of staring at it. Oh, he thought, and considered briefly _thanking_ Johns, because David actually seemed a tad interested in him.

David looked down at the floor, taking a step back. Obviously nervous and embarrassed, if the blushing that seemed to creep up from underneath his collar was any indication.

“Well, I need to get back to the stove,” Dave said, nodding with his head toward the simmering pot on the small stove not that far from them. The food was probably burnt now, but he couldn’t make himself care.

“Yes, err, I need to get home,” replied David, already turning to leave.

“You’re welcome to stay,” he offered, quickly.

“Thanks, but um, my mom is waiting for me in the car, she promised to drive me back to my dorm, so I should probably—”

“Right, yes, yes, sure.”

“But it was nice meeting you, Cook the cook,” he said, smiling shyly at Dave, looking so fucking young and innocent. Dave’s heart skipped a beat.

“Yes, you too,” he said after a couple of seconds in silence. David gave a final small wave before walking out the door. Dave hurried over, pushing the door a bit open so he could watch as David walked across the room, waving goodbye to Johns and Carly before he left.

Dave was in love.

 

*

 

Saturday came, and Dave was up way earlier than he normally was on a weekend. The TV was on mute and the radio in the kitchen was turned on just high enough that he could hear the music in the bathroom as he got ready.

He ran a hand across the stubbles of his beard, briefly considering shaving though in the end he settled for just fixing his hair. He liked the beard, and a small part of him felt as though David might have liked it too, if his lingering gaze had been any suggestion.

“Fuck,” said Andrew, pushing his way into the bathroom, going straight for the toilet. His hair was a mess, and his glasses seemed knocked askew. Dave figured his brother had probably scratched under one eye and then not bothered to fix the glasses. It was a frequent occurrence, after all.

“Why are you up?” asked Dave, hands running through his hair, attempting to style it. Perhaps going with a mohawk hadn’t been the best option, though it certainly beat the flat look that made him look like an idiot.

“You woke me up with the radio blasting, you jerk,” said Andrew, yawning to prove his point. Dave was not impressed.

“It’s my apartment. Go home if you don’t like it,” he replied, smugly.

Andrew waved his hand in Dave’s direction, yawning again.

“Why are you even up already?” asked Andrew, pushing his way to the sink to wash his hands. Dave pushed back with his hip, but Andrew’s sharp elbow made him concede the right to stand directly in front of the mirror.

Dave tried to fix the hair without looking into the mirror. “Brooke’s baby shower is today,” he said.

“Right,” said Andrew, drying his hands in the towel next to the sink. Then, with a smirk, he continued, “Good luck.”

“Fuck off,” was all Dave said back, regretting that he had told Andrew about David. He glanced in the mirror as he washed his hands. His hair was as good as it could get, he thought.

Andrew was munching away on some toast when Dave finally emerged from the bathroom, dressed and styled. Well, sort of. He looked probably the same as he always did – same kind of t-shirt (logo of his band on the back), jeans and boots.

“Well, I’m off now. Please be gone when I come back,” he said. Andrew just gave him the finger, which Dave accepted because he was running late and he didn’t have time to kick his brother’s ass.

By the time he made it to the bar, Johns was already there. Dave noticed a black lacy bra on the counter and only raised an eyebrow in amusement before saying, “Hi Carly.”

A hand came up and grabbed the bra, and a minute or two later, Carly appeared from under the counter. “Hey loser,” she said, grinning. That was what he liked about Carly. Clearly this was an embarrassing situation, but she handled it like it was no big deal.

Johns scuffed the back of his head as he walked pass, knocking the smirk off Dave’s face.

“Get ready, we have to be there at one,” was all Johns said, before going into his office, leaving the door ajar, obviously waiting for Carly to come join him. Dave just rolled his eyes and made his way into the tiny kitchen.

Most of the stuff was already laid out, ready for him to get started. He took a couple of moments to double check that he had everything, before he started on the first dish that Brooke had requested that he make.

 

*

 

At one o’clock, they pulled up outside of Brooke’s house. Carly helped Dave carry the food inside, Johns disappearing before they could ask him to help them out. The house was bigger than Dave had thought, and the kitchen looked new.

“Fancy,” he said, looking at Brooke who appeared in the doorway, smiling widely, hands on her stomach. She was about eight months pregnant and looked as radiant as ever.

“You look fantastic,” he said, and truly meant it. He was certain Brooke would be a terrific mom. After all, before the cook job at the bar, she had been a nanny for a couple of years.

“Thanks, you look handsome,” she said, winking.

“Hi,” said a timid voice, and Dave didn’t even have to look to recognize that it was David. He turned, big smile on his face, silently greeting him.

“I’ll leave you two to it then,” said Brooke, leaving the kitchen.

“Wow, this look amazing,” said David, leaning over the table to look at the dishes that Dave had created.

“Thanks,” he said, proudly and perhaps also a tad giddy.

He would have liked to talk some more with David, but the guests started showing up and David was barely long enough in the kitchen for them to say a word to each other. The baby shower went well, and Dave had even participated in some of the games when Brooke had insisted that he leave the kitchen to come join them.

All in all, he counted it as a success, as he shrugged into his jacket. Carly and Johns were talking to Brooke and Dave (Brooke’s husband who was also named Dave), and Dave used the opportunity to talk to David.

“Hey,” he said, mentally hitting himself for such a lame start.

“Hi,” said David back, smiling shyly, eyes lowered, long eyelashes resting against his cheeks.

“So, you were a good waiter today,” he said, continuing in the same kind of lame conversation.

“Your food is really, um, really good. I liked it. A lot,” said David. Dave grinned, pleased.

“Thanks. Did you get to taste the ham and cheese sandwiches I made? They are like, my speciality.” Well, he thought, not that he really had a speciality, but he was definitely better at making those kind of sandwiches than anything else, so he figured what the hell.

“Um, no. There weren’t any left.”

“Oh,” he said, voice a bit deflated. “Wait, I have most of the stuff back at the kitchen at the bar, still. I could make you one?”

David looked at him, curious and confused. “Now?”

“Yes, now. What do you say?”

“Um, well, I was going to go home. I can just eat…”

“Nonsense. My car is back at the bar. Come back with me and I’ll make you a mean sandwich. I can drive you home after.”

“Um,” said David.

“Or, you know, I can just make it another day if you don’t want to.” Obviously, this was not going as well as he had hoped. Perhaps David really wasn’t interested.

“No, um. That sounds great, actually. I can, err, we can do that, if you’re sure?”

Dave grinned, nodding twice. “Absolutely.”

“Okay then,” said David, huffing out a short laugh.

They said goodbye to Brooke and Dave, and then followed Carly and Johns to the car. His hand automatically landed on David’s shoulder, guiding him to the car. David seemed to freeze under his hand, but relaxed into Dave’s touch before he got a chance to remove it.

The drive back to the bar was done mostly in silence on Dave and David’s part. Carly was chatting away, singing along to the radio every now and then, and Johns was talking loudly though Dave wasn’t sure whom he was talking to, because none of them really paid attention to what he was saying.

“You need a ride home, David?” asked Johns, just as Dave was about to get out of the car.

“No, um, Cook said he’d make me a sandwich, because, um, I didn’t get to have any at Brooke’s?”

Dave hurried out, missing whatever Johns said, and walked around the car, opening the door for David. David was blushing, and Johns gestured for Dave to lean closer. “You sly dog,” he said in a mock whisper. Dave pushed Johns’ face back inside the car.

“You sure you don’t mind?” asked David, as Dave wriggled with the keys, trying to find the right one.

“Honestly, David. I don’t mind. I’m kind of famished myself. And my ham and cheese sandwiches are pretty good.” He winked, attempting to lighten the mood and show David that he _wanted_ to make a sandwich.

They made their way across the dark room, David close at Dave’s heels. No point in turning on the lights as the bar was closing – with the lights on, the regulars would probably just think the bar was open and then bang on the door until Dave was forced to either tell them to go away or let them in.

They made their way out to the kitchen, and Dave turned on the lights just as the door closed behind them.

“Um,” said David, and Dave turned to look at him. The refrigerator hummed in the corner.

“Yes?” asked Dave, head tilted to the side as he watched David. Fuck, he was beautiful, all tan skin and dark hair and amazing long lashes. And the lips; Dave could make songs about those lips.

David took a step forward, quickly rising up to his toes and pressed his warm lips against Dave’s.

“Oh,” was all Dave said when David pulled back.

“Oh my heck, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I just did that.” David looked kind of scared, eyes wide and big. “Um, I should probably just—”

“Kiss me again,” said Dave, taking a step forward, one hand on the back of David’s neck, the skin smooth and warm under his touch, the other hand on David’s hip, pulling the younger boy closer.

“Gosh,” said David, looking up at Dave through those long dark lashes, lips red and wet. Dave automatically licked his own lips, tongue darting out to run over the plump flesh. As silly as it sounded, he was sure that he could almost taste David on his lips, though the kiss had barely lasted a full second.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since I saw you that first time,” admitted Dave.

“Um, gosh, me too,” said David shyly.

Dave pulled him closer; their bodies perfectly aligned, and his lips inches away from David’s forehead. He bent down the same time that David went to stand on his toes, and when their lips touched again, he opened his mouth, tongue darting out to lick across the seam of David’s lips.

It was perfect.

 

*

 

Dave didn’t get to make his special sandwiches until hours later. David told him that it was the best sandwich he had ever tasted, and Dave leaned forward and kissed David’s red lips again, licking the taste of mayo and mustard away.

 _fin._


End file.
